Print Quarterly

For Milla by Esther van der Vyver

My daughter
staggering under the weight
of her dream
red eyed
calls my name in her
crumpled sleep.

the mother, the mother
kisses the sweaty skin,
soothes with her voice
her knees creaking
next to the bed
praying to the altar
of dark sleep
for sweetness
for life to forget
these dark eyes
these hands
their nails bitten to the quick
these small hands.